


It Happened In Room 3

by flipflop_diva



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blind Date, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Cunnilingus, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Multiple Orgasms, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, POV Ginny Weasley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 17:17:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19155517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: Ginny really needs this blind date to go well. It’s been months since she’s found anyone she’s wanted to date. It’s been months since she’s even had sex with anyone else.Let’s just say, this blind date does not exactly go as Ginny hopes.





	It Happened In Room 3

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maraudersaffair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersaffair/gifts).



> Written for maraudersaffair, based on this prompt: _Friends have set them up on a blind date and it goes terrible. They agree that they aren't compatible but they are both lonely/sexually frustrated, so they decide to be fuck buddies but oh no! they secretly start developing feelings_.
> 
> This was so much fun to write, and I really hope you enjoy!

“You look great. Your mystery lady is going to fall in love with you on sight.”

Hermione Granger sat back on Ginny’s four-poster bed while Ginny fiddled once again with her hair, taking it out of the ribbon she had just fastened in it to let it flow about her shoulders. She usually didn’t take more than a few minutes a day to worry about her looks, stuffing her hair into ponytails for Quidditch games and practice and pulling on her Holyhead Harpies uniform for public appearances.

But this was different.

It had been way too long since she had met someone she really connected with. It had even been way too long since she’d had a good fuck. Not that she hadn’t had offers, but she had a policy not to have one-night stands with other Quidditch players. She’d tried that, back when she’d first joined the Harpies, but it had not gone well. Quidditch was her career now. She didn’t want to ruin it with unnecessary drama, even if it was one-sided on the other lady’s end.

She must have been complaining too much about her lack of a love life, though, because her Harpies’ teammates had come to her two days ago, out of the blue, telling her they had found her a date with the perfect woman. She just had to meet her at The Leaky Cauldron at 8 p.m.

Ginny wasn’t overly fond of blind dates, but it had been way too long, so here she was, fiddling with her hair as her roommate looked on.

Hermione checked the clock on the wall now, as Ginny lifted her hair in her hands, trying to see if maybe she had time to curl it?

“You have ten minutes,” Hermione told her, and then, “Stop fussing. You’re beautiful. She’s not going to care what your hair looks like.”

Ginny dropped her hands, and her hair, and looked at Hermione. “I’m being a prat, aren’t I?”

Hermione shook her head. “You’re being someone getting ready for a first date.”

“Right. I’m being a prat.” She threw herself down on the bed beside Hermione, resting her head back against the soft bedding. “I just want to get laid,” she moaned. “Preferably with someone who’s cool and wants to keep getting laid with me.”

Hermione laughed. “She’ll love you, Ginny. Who could not?”

Ginny could probably name a few if she tried, but instead, she pushed herself upright and pointed her wand at her closet.

“Accio black heels!”

Her shoes came flying out of the closet at her. She caught them and strapped them on to her feet.

“Wish me a good lay,” she said to Hermione as she got to her feet.

Hermione laughed, and was still laughing, as Ginny took a breath, turned and left her and Hermione’s flat behind.

•••

She pushed open the door to The Leaky Cauldron, taking a few seconds to let her eyes adjust to the darkness inside, a sharp contrast to the bright street lamps shining on the sidewalk outside.

The place was half full. She could see various witches and wizards sitting around tables or at the booths on the side, laughing and talking.

Behind the bar, Hannah Abbott, the new owner, was pointing her wand at a row of glasses, which were filling themselves with colorful liquids. At the end of the bar sat a solitary figure. Ginny could make out short, dark hair, cut in almost a bob, and a slender figure.

Taking a deep breath, Ginny marched through the door and down to the end of the bar, grinning at Hannah as she walked by.

She stopped right beside the figure she had seen as soon as she entered.

“Hello,” she announced. “I’m Ginny Weasley. You must be the woman …”

The words died on her lips. The figure at the bar had turned to face her, and now she was staring into the face of none other than one Pansy Parkinson.

“No!” they both said at the same time, staring at each other, half in disbelief, half in horror.

"Please don't tell me you're my date," Ginny moaned. She looked around before pulling out the chair next to Pansy and sinking into it, feeling suddenly like she couldn't bear to keep standing upright. 

"Please don't tell me you're mine," Pansy said, as Ginny gestured to Hannah. 

"Firewhisky," Ginny said. "Make it a double."

"Two of those," Pansy said. 

Ginny suddenly felt a strong desire to laugh. She shook her head, still in disbelief. "How did my friends not know we already know each other?" She didn’t think it was a secret that former Gryffindors and former Slytherins were not exactly best of friends — or matches made by Cupid.

Hannah reappeared, handing them both their drinks, then quickly returning to the other end of the bar, probably not wanting to be caught up in any of this. 

"My friends said my date was smart and funny," Pansy groaned. 

Ginny glared at her. "I _am_ smart and funny,” she said defiantly. “But my friends said my date was beautiful and nice.”

Pansy sniffed. “I’m nice.”

Ginny almost snorted. “Since when?”

“Maybe since the ten years it’s been since Hogwarts,” Pansy said.

Ginny took a drink of her Firewhisky so she didn’t have to answer. This whole thing was unbelievable. She felt a string of curse words on her tongue as she contemplated the entire situation.

She slammed her glass back on to the bar top and said, more to herself, than anyone else, “I was just really looking forward to a good fuck, too.”

Pansy’s glass clinked down beside hers.

“I can fuck you,” she said.

Ginny almost rolled her eyes. “No, thanks.”

“What? You think I’m not good?”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Then what’s the big deal? You wanted sex, I wanted sex. Let’s go have sex and then go home and yell at our friends.”

Ginny thought. On one hand, it was the stupidest idea she’d ever heard. Pansy Parkinson was the last person in the world she would ever contemplate having sex with. She hadn’t seen her since Hogwarts, and she would have been just fine never seeing her again.

But on the other hand, she was here and she was apparently willing, and she was not a Quidditch player or a friend or anyone who could cause complications later.

And Ginny really, really, really needed a good fuck.

She turned to Pansy. “No snogging under any circumstances. And no telling anyone else.”

“Do you really think I would tell anyone else?”

“Good point. Bathroom?”

“No,” came a voice, but it wasn’t Pansy’s. Ginny turned her head just in time to grab a flying key shooting over the bar toward her before it nailed her in the head. “Room 3 is available,” Hannah told them, with a hint of a smile.

Ginny thought she should maybe be embarrassed that Hannah knew what they were doing, but they were being offered a bed and she was about to have sex, so there was no time for shame.

She looked at Pansy. “Ready?”

“Lead the way.”

They barely made it all the way through the door before their clothes were discarded on the floor. Ginny pushed Pansy against the bed, and then dropped to her knees before the other woman, shoving her legs apart. She wasted no time licking a stripe across Pansy’s center and drawing out a small moan from the other woman.

Pansy’s hands came up to grasp hold of Ginny’s breasts, kneading them in her palms, and Pansy’s hips rocked against Ginny’s mouth as she latched on to Pansy’s clit, alternating between sucking and licking and gently biting. She waited until they had a rhythm going, Pansy’s body undulating against Ginny, before Ginny slipped a single finger inside Pansy.

She took a few minutes to decipher the other woman, trying different speeds and pressures and internal spots until she was pretty sure what Pansy liked. Then she looked up, her mouth popping off Pansy’s clit just long enough to push her backward on to the bed. She shoved her legs open further and got back to work.

Pansy’s hands couldn’t reach Ginny now, but Ginny didn’t mind for the moment. She sucked Pansy’s clit into her mouth again, and this time slipped two fingers inside. It had been so long since she had tasted and touched another woman that she had almost forgotten just how much she liked knowing she could bring someone else to climax.

Pansy was moaning almost uncontrollably now, her hips bouncing in time with the fingers thrusting inside her, and Ginny sped up, crooking her fingers a little every direction she could reach until she felt Pansy’s thighs start to tremble. She lifted her head for just a moment, to see Pansy lying with her head tilted backward, her back arched, her hands pulling on her own nipples, and then Ginny went back to work, biting down on Pansy’s clit just as she added a third finger.

A moment later, Pansy was coming, crying out as she shuddered beneath Ginny. 

Ginny gave her a few beats to recover before climbing up her body, leaving her knee between Pansy’s legs, letting Pansy bear down on her to ramp up her arousal once more. Ginny placed her hands on either side of Pansy’s head, her breasts just over Pansy’s face, and she got the hint. Pansy lifted her head, took Ginny’s right nipple into her mouth, and Ginny groaned as the pleasure hit her harder than she expected.

And then she felt a finger between her own legs, moving up and down, and Ginny squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to grind herself against the finger, get it to move harder, even as Ginny moved her knee up, forcing more pressure against Pansy’s clit.

Pansy let out a soft cry around Ginny’s nipple, just as Ginny felt a slender finger slide deep inside her.

But it still wasn’t enough. Ginny needed more, so much more. 

She took a breath, focused, then used her knee more forcefully against Pansy. It didn’t take long before Pansy shuddered again, and now it was Ginny’s turn.

She clambered up Pansy’s body, finally settling herself with her legs on either side of Pansy’s face.

“Fuck me. Hard,” she commanded.

She lowered herself down, and Pansy opened her mouth, and then finally, finally something was happening. Pansy’s tongue felt like it was deep inside her and also all over her at the same time. Ginny wasn’t sure if she was using magic or she was just that good, but it didn’t matter, she didn’t care.

She learned forward to grab hold of the headboard, keeping herself upright, and dropped her head, clenching her eyes. She bounced up and down, riding Pansy’s face as Pansy sucked and licked and thrust and bit and Ginny’s whole body felt like it was on fire.

She felt Pansy’s hands latch on to her hips, to hold her in place, and it was too much and not enough all at once.

Ginny tried to cry out as she attempted to ride Pansy harder, but now Pansy was in control, tasting and touching her on Pansy’s desires, and Ginny felt a sob tear out of her throat because she wanted this so bad, needed this so bad, and even a minute more seemed far too long.

And then Pansy’s tongue entered her again, and Ginny thought it felt like Pansy was licking her entire insides, and she felt the curl of desire start in her core, radiating outward. Exhaustion was starting to settle over her, her legs were cramping up. She gripped the headboard harder, screwed her eyes up even tighter, and she was so close, so close, so close.

Pansy’s hands squeezed Ginny harder and she felt her legs slide even further apart and the curl of desire grew stronger. Pansy’s tongue was still inside her and upon her and everywhere at once it seemed and Ginny couldn’t take it anymore.

With a cry, she moved enough to ground herself harder against Pansy’s mouth, and then, finally, amazingly, she felt herself scream as her climax washed over her, her body tingling and shaking in perfect bliss, and then she was slumped over, her pussy still in Pansy’s mouth and Pansy was still licking her through the aftershocks until she couldn’t hold herself up anymore, her limbs were too limp, and she fell over sideways, a mass of sweat and exhaustion and shallow breathing.

They dressed in silence ten minutes later, heading back downstairs and returning to the bar. Ginny handed Hannah the key, thanked her and a few minutes later was back in her apartment. Luckily, Hermione had gone out, and Ginny had the place to herself.

She threw herself down on her bed, slipped her own hand down into her pants and got herself off once more to the memory of face-fucking Pansy Parkinson. She tried not to think about how it was probably some of the best sex she’d ever had.

•••

The owl post came three days later. A plain white envelope addressed to Ginny Weasley, Inside was a small white card with five words written on it in unfamiliar handwriting: _Saturday. 8 o’clock. Same room._

Ginny thought about not going, but who was she kidding?

“It’s just sex, right?” she said to Hermione that night at dinner.

Hermione, who was far from Pansy Parkinson’s biggest fan, said thoughtfully, “Maybe she’s changed since Hogwarts. You and I both have.”

Ginny snorted. “I’m having sex with her, Hermione. Not a date.”

“Still better to have sex with someone you like,” Hermione said reasonably, but Ginny just shrugged. Sure, maybe part of her used to believe that too, but she was tired of having sex with a magical dildo in her shower, and Pansy obviously had some super talent in that tongue of hers.

So Saturday night, at eight o’clock, she knocked on the door of Room 3 at The Leaky Cauldron. Hannah had given her a knowing smile as she had rushed in and up the stairs, and she decided that maybe she needed to send Hannah a big package of sweets to thank her for not broadcasting this all over the Wizarding world.

Pansy opened the door, completely naked, and beckoned her in. Two hours — and three rounds later — they set up another meeting (not a date. Definitely not a date) for Tuesday, dressed and went their separate ways.

Tuesday came with another three rounds, and Ginny panted as they lay spent, side by side, on the bed that was slowly becoming theirs.

“You want to get a drink?” The words were out of Ginny’s mouth before she could think them through. Probably because her brain was too fuzzy from her orgasms — even more intense this time than before — to properly think.

Pansy seemed to be having the same problem because the “Yes” was out of her mouth almost before Ginny finished asking.

They sat at the bar and ordered Firewhiskys. Pansy asked her about the Holyhead Harpies, and Ginny asked her about her travels with the Ministry as Pansy was now part of an International Delegation of Foreign Wizards, an organization created to foster communication and support of witches and wizards in every country of the world. Pansy had spent the past year traveling, and she enthusiastically told Ginny about some of her more exciting adventures.

Ginny hadn’t realized how long they had been sitting there until Hannah came over with a smile and the bill.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s closing time.”

“Oh,” Ginny started, instantly digging in her purse for some knuts, but before she could find enough, Pansy had tossed a couple galleons on the bar and told Hannah to keep the change.

“Friday night?” Pansy asked Ginny.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

•••

It went on from there. Once or twice a week, Ginny and Pansy met up for an intense session of sex, followed by a round or two of drinks. As the weeks passed, the sex got better, the orgasms more intense and the conversations deeper. Ginny found herself looking forward to their meet ups more and more.

One Saturday morning, about three months since Ginny and Pansy’s failed blind date, Ginny sat on her living room couch next to Hermione. Pansy was out of the country for two weeks with the Ministry, and as such, there was nothing to be excited about for a while.

“You really like her,” Hermione said, and Ginny almost choked on her bite of eggs.

“What?” she spluttered.

“You like her,” Hermione repeated.

“She’s a good fuck.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant. It’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Hermione said, and she stared at Ginny with that expression she used to wear all the time back when they were in the school, the one that said she knew something no one else did.

“It’s not,” Ginny said, but somehow she could not make herself sound as convincing as she should.

But that was ridiculous. It was sex. Nothing more, nothing less. Sure, there were drinks, but that was a natural conclusion to exhausting, thirst-creating sex. And okay, so the conversations were usually pretty fun, and maybe Pansy wasn’t nearly as awful as she used to be. Maybe she really was nice. And a bit funny. And had done some cool stuff.

But it was just sex. She could stop any minute. She could find someone else who gave her orgasms just as good.

Really. She could. It was just sex.

•••

It wasn’t just sex.

Ginny cursed at herself in the mirror.

She was meeting Pansy in an hour, the first time in two weeks. Her heart had almost leapt out of her chest in excitement when she had gotten Pansy’s note to meet her at six o’clock. She couldn’t wait for the orgasms, but it was with a horrible sinking feeling that she also realized she couldn’t wait to hear Pansy’s stories, to sit beside Pansy at the bar, to lie next to Pansy in the bed for the few minutes after they finished.

Ginny cursed again.

When had it become more than sex? And what was she going to do?

She knocked on the door of Room 3 at the Leaky Cauldron one minute before six o’clock. Pansy opened the door just as quickly as she always did. She was naked, just like she always was, but this time her skin glowed with the faint hint of a tan, and the smile on her face seemed wider than Ginny remembered.

Or maybe Ginny just wanted it to be.

Fuck.

It was now or never.

She stepped into the room, letting the door swing close behind her, and leaned forward, snogging Pansy hard on the lips. She waited for Pansy to pull back in disgust, but instead Pansy’s hands came up to cup her face, and she deepened the kiss.

Their tongues dueled and their lips met, over and over and over, until Ginny finally had to pull back for air.

It was still now or never.

“I don’t want to just be fuck buddies,” she said.

Pansy didn’t say anything for a moment, and then she shrugged. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Ginny repeated, because that was not the answer she had been expecting. She didn’t know what she had been expecting — a horrified no? An enthusiastic yes would have been nice — but a mere “Okay” was not it.

“It’s not like we’ve been just fuck buddies for a while now,” Pansy said.

Ginny blinked. “We haven’t?”

“Have you never been on a date?” Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Those weren’t …” Ginny trailed off. Drinks. Sometimes dinner. Talks that went late into the night. Regular get togethers.

“We’ve been dating,” Ginny whispered.

“People asked about my girlfriend on my last travels,” Pansy said. “I told them we weren’t there yet.”

“Yet?”

Pansy shrugged. “I was hoping for a yet.”

Ginny felt herself start to smile. “Okay,” she said, and Pansy laughed, then gestured at the bed.

“Want to have sex before we go downstairs and make it official?”

“Make it official?” Ginny said. “You mean, tell Hannah, and then I’ll go home and tell Hermione?”

“Sure,” Pansy said.

“Okay.” Ginny stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Pansy. “Let’s have sex and then go downstairs and make it official.”

A moment later, her clothes had vanished and she was lifted off her feet, landing spread-eagle on the bed, with Pansy’s cunt over her mouth and Pansy’s face between her legs.

“Fuck me good,” Ginny breathed, before Pansy lowered herself on to her face, and she felt Pansy’s laugh rumble through her whole body.

“You know I always do.”


End file.
